The Disappearance of Mann
by closetfan
Summary: Marshall disappears and it's up to Stan and Mary to find him before it's too late. If it's not already too late.
1. Chapter 1

*****A/N – If you read chapter 5, please re-read as it was drastically changed to fit how I wanted to end this story. All of the references to different characters came from season one.

Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters but thank USA Network for allowing me to fanfic them.

Chapter one

He awoke keeping his eyes closed and waited for the inside of his head to clear. As he tried to remember what happened, he laid perfectly still on the floor: listening. He wanted to make sure he was alone.

After a long minute, Marshall heard distant footfalls. He feigned unconsciousness when he heard the door lock being disengaged, followed by two footsteps. A soft click and a flash of light, the door closed and the lock re-engaged. The footsteps faded. What was that all about? What was that flash? He recognized the sound of that click, but couldn't place it. It gnawed at the corner of his memory but he just couldn't pull it forward.

After what seemed an eternity, Marshall pried his eyes open. Only after he reassured himself he was alone did he finally move. He instantly regretted it and let out a soft groan. He ached all over. Last he remembered, he was jumped by 3 or 4 goons just after he tucked his newest witness in for the night at a local motel.

_Oh God, my witness!_ He bolted upright only to flop back down, his hands cuffed tight behind his back. He see-sawed his arms. There was no movement between his skin and the cuffs, no way of slipping his hands out. _If they wanted my witness, why take me? Why not just kill me? Or knock me out? What did they do with him? I've got to find him. __**I've got to get out!**_

On his back, he lifted his head and took in the details of his surroundings. Basement. Night. Cement floor. Gray brick walls. Metal door, only access. One metal cabinet. One dim light in the ceiling. Two small windows, 8 feet off the ground, large enough for him to squeeze through.

His mind furiously tried to reason out what was going on. If they wanted his witness, why would he be here? Unless his guy escaped while he was fighting off the thugs. Then why no interrogation? Maybe they didn't want his but someone else's and he's the negotiation. There was a plethora of possibilities with that scenario. Maybe a pissed off witness getting even. But who could that be, they're in Witsec to be protected. They'd be pissed at the situation, not the people who helped them get started.

He twitched his face a bit. The right side was swollen. He could feel that easily. Had a split lip as well. His whole body was sore, but he didn't think anything was broken thus hindering his ability to get away. He looked up at the small basement window. He could escape through there if he could get out of the cuffs. A slight smirk crossed his face. He slid his hands up to his belt, slipping a finger into a slit in it. He had heard too many stories from his father and grandfather of cops who were handcuffed with their own bracelets. So, he had created a mini-compartment and slipped a spare key in there for such emergencies. It never occurred to him that he would ever need it.

"Crap! It was supposed to be right there." He'd simply unstitched a small section between the inside and outside of the belt to hide it. Either it fell out or shifted anywhere along the 36" length. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he manipulated the leather strap from behind his back, feeling for the key. God, he hoped that he could find and retrieve it before they came back.

Marshall didn't have time to feign unconsciousness when two beefsteaks barreled through the door. He looked up at them. "I don't suppose we can sit down like gentlemen and discuss whatever it is you need from me?"

A swift kick to the midsection answered his question as it sucked all the wind out of his lungs.

XXXXX

Mary butted through the door, three cups of coffee in her hand. _This time I'll surprise him and pay._ She slowed as she approached Marshall's desk, placing one coffee there. She turned towards Stan, sitting in the conference room. "Where's Marshall?"

Her boss looked up and over at her. "I thought you would know. You two seem joined at the hip."

"Nope. He must have had a hot date last night." She frowned, looking at his desk. "You know, I don't think I ever remember him being late."

She shrugged it off and sat at her own desk ignoring his ringing phone.

When it was obvious the caller wasn't interested in leaving a message, Stan called out. "Mary, please get his phone!"

"Alight already." She grabbed it. "Hello, Inspector Mann's office... No I'm not his secretary!"

"Yeah."

"Uh, huh." Her brow furrowed.

"Yeah, okay, we'll be right over."

She hung up and yelled to her boss. "Stan, that was Marshall's client. He said Marshall was supposed to pick him up over an hour ago for his court date."

Stan hesitated as the news sunk in. He rose, grabbing his keys, concerned etched on his face. "C'mon, I'm driving."

XXXXX

As they approached the motel Mary pointed. "Hey look. He's here after all. There's his car. I bet he showed up just after the guy called."

Stan pulled next to the huge black SUV. "He's got some explaining to do. If his witness needed to be in court then he should have called to have one of us pick him up. Do you know the room number?"

"322."

As they headed for the stairs, Mary noticed a plain manila envelop taped to the motel support post directly in front of the Yukon. She shrugged and continued up the stairs.

"Where the hell have you been?" A skinny, tired looking young man answered the door.

"Say, where's Inspector Mann? I thought he was taking me to court today?"

Stan peered into the room. "He's not here?"

The witness shook his head.

Mary bolted down the stairs and to the black SUV. "It's his car, his keys are here, but there's no sign of Marshall."

Her attention focused back on the envelope on the pole. She snatched it down and opened it. Inside was a single photograph. Nothing else. Mary pulled it out, studied it for a moment then leaned over and vomited.


	2. Chapter 2

Stan glanced down at Mary from the 3rd floor railing. When he saw her get sick, he shoved the witness back into the room. "Stay put!" and slammed the door shut.

He took the stairs 2 and 3 at a time. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Mary handed Stan the picture. It showed a handcuffed and battered Marshall, unconscious on the floor.

"Oh, God."

Once past the shock of the picture, he realized that he and Mary just got their fingerprints all over the evidence. "Don't move. Let me get a bag before we ruin any more prints on there."

After he stuffed the envelope and picture away, trying to hold back his anxiety, he directed Mary, "Take Marshall's car and bring his witness to court. I'll head back to the office."

"NO. Uh, huh. I'm going to look for Marshall."

Stan stared at her then shrugged. "Sure, go ahead." He stood there, arms folded across his chest, watching Mary jump into the SUV, start it up…and sit. "That's why I was going to the office. To get help from the APD and see if we can find some leads as to where Marshall might be held. Now, would you please take the witness to court? I'll call them up and explain why he's late."

"Get someone else to do it! I'm not going to be any good protecting him. You know my mind's going to be on Marshall."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I'll have someone meet you there and take over. Who knows by the time you get back we might have some leads."

XXXXX

Marshall opened his eyes without any of the precautions he used earlier. He was in too much of a fog to think clearly. He blinked away the miasma, trying hard to grab onto thoughts that slipped through the cracks in his brain. He squinted up at the basement window. _Daylight. I wonder how long I've been out. I know it was around 9:00 PM when they snagged me._

"Owwww." He groaned when he shifted his weight. He swallowed hard as he rolled onto his side. More by instinct, his hands crept along his belt trying to find the telltale bulge indicating a key. While his hands were busy, his brain tried functioning again.

He just about ruled out that someone wanted his witness. The two other options were that he was being used as a pawn in negotiations, which didn't explain the beatings. Or they wanted information from him, which didn't make sense since they weren't asking him anything.

He recalled some of the details of the two behemoths that came in after him. The first guy had a thick Eastern European accent. Russian? Ukraine? He was almost sure it wasn't Polish. The other guy had the singsong accent of a Native American. Although not versed enough to be able to tell which tribe, he could name customs and costumes of most local groups.

_The __**Tinde**__ also known as__** Jicarilla**__ considered themselves the "First People". They share the state of New Mexico with the Navajo Nation, which encroached on Hopi land. Taking over most of it. The Hopi would make dolls from the Cottonwood, which Jay Arnstein doesn't know from Poplar. _

He shook his head trying to shake the fog out. _You can dazzle Mary with your knowledge of Native Americans residents of New Mexico when you get out of here_. He realized that he had stopped feeling for the key and started up the task again. He prayed that this time he'd get the key out before they came back.

_Is Kay pissed off enough to change her mind? Does the Russian have anything to do with Serge? Wasn't there a murder linked to a wealthy Native American? His son was arrested?_

He tried to push the belt through the loops but the buckle was too large to fit. "Crap." He just needed something to pop the buckle off, then he could slide it out. He looked at the cabinet. That would work. He rolled back and forth trying to get onto his knees. On the third try he succeeded. He sat back to catch his breath and smiled, now appreciating the contortions Horst performed to get off the ground after Mary tackled him. Hmmm. _Could it be Horst?_ He rocked back and got to his feet. Thankfully they didn't tie his ankles.

He tottered a moment. "_Weebles wobble but they don't fall down_." He shook his head again, forcing his brain into gear and stumbled towards the cabinet.

He placed the edge of the buckle against the corner of the cabinet and turned sharply. The buckle hook popped out of the hole with such ease that Marshall lost his balance and spun to the floor. "Oh, that hurt." He pulled the belt free from the loops fishing for the key with more urgency.

_Eureka!_ It had migrated almost to the front. However it took only minutes to get it out and even less time to unlock the cuffs.

He stood rubbing his raw wrists but before he could even think of his next move the door burst open. "Oh shit!"

XXXXX

Mary barreled into Stan's office. "What've we got?"

He handed her a list. "Take this list of all his past WITSEC clients and find out where they are. Find those they're hiding from as well, where they are, how long they've been there and any clues that they might be involved. If the perps are in jail, find out if they've got friends. I've got a similar list.

"Oh and by the way, we meet with Dershowitz in an hour."

The worry lines on Mary's forehead deepened. "He's homicide. Why's he involved?"

"On the record, he's saying that it might be tied to one of their cases. Off the record, he wants to help. I think he likes you."

"Yeah?"

She shook her head. "I've got more important things to worry about now. " She stormed out of the room to her desk.

XXXXX

"Do you know the last person he was with?"

"Listen Dirsch, how would we know who he was with last? His car is at the motel. Just start canvassing for witnesses to his abduction."

Stan gave Mary a stern look. "Ease up. He's just trying to help." He turned to Bobby D. "Unfortunately we can't give you the name of the person he was with. But we did interview that person and they saw and heard nothing. Can you take our word on that?"

Bobby looked down at his clenched hands. "You want me to help you, right? Why can't you give me the name of the person? At least….male or female?"

"No. Not even that."

"You want me to play detective blindfolded. Maybe I should just let your marshal friends do the work."

Stan glanced at Mary whose mouth was open and stated quietly, "Shut up."

Then to Bobby, "Did you get any prints off the photograph or envelope?"

"Not yet. Are there any leads you can give me? Any bad guys you want me to flush out?"

Stan shook his head.

Mary shot out of her seat. "We've wasted over an hour here. I've got work to do." She stormed out of the room."

Stan stood and shook Bobby's hand. "If there's any info I can share with you, I will."

"Ditto."


	3. Chapter 3

The Russian entered the main room, wrinkling his nose at the medicinal smell. After taking a deep breath from the inhaler, his boss asked, "You did lock him back up again, didn't you? Tighter I hope?"

"Didn't need to, when we left him he was out cold."

The man cowered when his boss came after him swinging a black bag. "Moron. Get back there right now and cuff him! Find something solid to cuff him to. Make sure they're TIGHT!"

XXXXX

Mary blew into Stan's office. "I can't believe you made me waste another 2 frigin hours with that witness. There's not another WITSEC marshal anywhere that…

"What? What's wrong?"

Stan handed her a second picture.

Mary clenched her jaw.

She handed back the photo, her voice strained. "Anyone make contact yet? Any ransom? Any demands?"

Stan shook his head. "The way I look at it; they either want to trade him for a witness or trade him for information on a witness."

"But why send us pictures of him…" she choked on the rest of the sentence.

"By showing us photos of progressive beatings, the bastards are making sure we'll be good and ready to deal with them when they finally contact us." He looked at Mary; how tortured she looked. She was putting in a valiant effort to hide it, but he knew her too well. "But the good news is that as long as they want something from us they aren't going to kill him."

There was a strained silence then the lines on his face sharpened. "Mare, what about your witnesses? Anyone really pissed at you?"

She tilted her head as she glared at her boss. "Me? You think someone would abduct Marshall to get back at me?

"That's really stupid. Ludicrous. Insane!

"Really? You think?"

"You have to admit Mary, your personality can be a little…abrasive."

She waved the comments away. "Enough about my personality. This is going nowhere. What have you come up with? We need to find Marshall before they send us a photo of him dead. Were there any finger prints?"

"Yeah, too many. Probably of every stock boy, cashier, and anyone else that would have come into contact with the envelope. Even you and me. It's going to take a little time to get all the prints and try to get a match from the database." Stan shoved half a stack of papers at Mary. "I've pulled out a list of all yours and Marshall's cases. Latest first. Go through it and see if anyone comes up on your radar. Anyone out on bail. Escaped. Have a brother with a cousin who knows a hitman. Anything.

"By the way, we're going to have help from the FBI and other Federal agents."

XXXXX

Mary slammed the pen down on her desk. "Arrrgggg! This is taking forever.

"Okay, Stan, I've got 3 possibles to start. I want to check out if any of the South Africans that were after Treena are loose. Also, remember Talltrees? His son was arrested for murdering the son of one of my witnesses. He might be pretty pissed at me since I cracked that case. And the gangbanger that shot the doctor's daughter's boyfriend. I can definitely see them having the balls to abduct a U.S. Marshal, and the means too. In fact, I'll check into that one first."

Stan called back, "I've also got three from Marshall's list. Didn't he just bust his own witness, Serge? Also remember Kay, the mistress? Marshall talked her out of even staying in WITSEC. She could have changed her mind. And what about Donner? Marshall shoved his badge in his face when they arrested him after the basketball game. You should remember him, the bookie who was after your first witness."

She was about to answer when she heard his phone ring. It never finished the first chords of the ringtone, he answered so fast. She saw him through the window, pacing, nodding once or twice, but couldn't hear him. She tapped her pencil so fast against her desk it sounded like a woodpecker. "C'mon, c'mon. What's up?"

Stan peered around the door. "The local cops have a small lead. The have an ID on the car Marshall was shoved into, and the direction it was headed."

Mary stood. "Well, let's get going!"

"Where?"

"The direction of the vehicle, where else?"

Stan's shoulders slumped as he sighed. "We can spend hours driving up and down Rt 266 and never see a car that looks like it. Let's see if we can find someone who owns something along those lines. The cops are concentrating patrols in that area, we can't accomplish anymore by doing the same thing."

Mary glared at her boss even though she knew he was right. "Shit."

"You say something?"

"Nah, just clearing my nose."

XXXXX

Marshall raised his hand to his head. "Oh crap. I'm not going to be able to take another one of those. But I know that voice." He tried to recall the owner of the whiney voice he heard just before he faded into that safe, painless void.

His eyes flew opened and he looked at his hands. Then at the door. Then the window.

"I don't know why they didn't cuff me, but I'm not hanging around to find out." He pushed himself off the floor, swayed a bit as he got his bearing, then staggered to the window. He stretched to reach it, realizing he'd need help getting up there. He looked around. The only thing was the flimsy metal cabinet and he figured he'd need that to block the door. He was able to unlock the window and latch it open. But the height was too much for him to hop up and through it.

He went to the cabinet. Locked.

Marshall's heart started pounding when he heard footsteps. Knowing he had only seconds, his eyes flicked around the room searching for anything to help him. Panic simmered just below the surface. He looked up at the light and followed the wiring to the switch on the wall. He slammed the light switch off, leapt up and grabbed hold of the flimsy fixture. The bulb burning his hands. The wiring was yanked off the ceiling and wall as he landed, showering him with plaster and staples. Smashing the bulb, he held the socket between his feet, and wrenched the wires out. _Oh please don't fry me_. Fingers a little numb, he fumbled with the bare wires but got them wrapped them around the doorknob.

He flicked on the switch.

As the lock above the doorknob was disengaged, he grabbed the top of the cabinet, and prayed that it wasn't bolted to the floor or wall. It toppled easily onto its side in front of the door. He blasted the cabinet door with his bootheel hoping to pop the lock. He succeeded on the second try and pried it open. All he found were empty shelves.

"YEOW!"

Marshall heard a thud after the scream and hoped he had knocked out at least one of his attackers.

"SONAVABITCH WIRED THE FUGGING DOOR! Kick it down!"

Dismayed that his trick didn't slow down his captors as they pummeled the door, Marshall popped out all the shelving, tossing them under the window. They were only an inch thick at the edge, but all of them stacked up would give him a very needed 10 inch boost. He had his work cut out for him because every time they kicked the door, the cabinet slid a couple of inches. Then he'd have to move it back. But when time came that he headed towards the window, it would only take 2 or 3 tries before they'd succeed and barrel into the room.

He had no option. The shelves were tossed into a pile. When done, he counted between attacks and bolted for the window after the latest. He figured he had about 8 seconds. He leapt onto the metal hill and grabbed the windowsill.

The door burst open.

A shot rang out.


	4. Chapter 4

Stan came out of his office, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, top two shirt buttons undone.

He looked down at his notepad. "I've narrowed it down some more.

"Kay is on her honeymoon. Supposedly sailing around the world. They're gonna be gone a couple months. And get this, her new hubby is an existentialist. I'll have to tell Marshall that when we find him."

"IF we find him!"

"We'll find him." He looked back down at his notes. "His Russian witness is tucked nice and tight in his cell. He's doing everything he can to keep a low profile. He's too busy trying to hide from the guys we were hiding him from to try to get even with Marshall.

"But… He tapped his pad. "Donner's out on bail. How about you and I go for a ride?"

"Donner?" Mary looked up from her list and screwed her face up in thought. "Could be. I'm not sure I can see him doing something like this, but the look on his face when Marshall shoved his badge in his face could melt steel.

"I'm almost through my list as well. All the South Africans seem to be scattered and fallen by the wayside.

"Don't know about Talltrees. His son's still in jail, but you know, he was pretty pissed at me. I can see him throwing his money around by hiring some goons to go after Marshall. But it doesn't fit. He's got the money for the best lawyers. Why risk everything by going after a Fed?

"But the gangbangers…They've got guys everywhere. This is right up their alley; beating the crap out of a Marshal. But, the picture thing? Doesn't sit right.

Stan grabbed his jacket. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Talk to Bobby D. We'll need help in checking out the gangbangers. We can also find out about Donner.

XXXXX

Dershowicz had his head in one hand, the other held the phone. He was speaking quietly. Mary couldn't see his face or hear him but she didn't like the slope of his shoulders. Something was wrong. Deathly wrong.

Stan saw it too. They stood in front of his desk waiting for him to finish the call.

Mary felt her heart pumping and imagined her blood pressure skyrocketing. It took all her energy to keep from flying across his desk and shaking the news out of him.

Bobby cradled the phone softly. Too softly. He knew who stood in front of him even before he raised his face. He didn't know how to say it without just coming straight out with it. No softening the blow. No 'want a cup of coffee?' No 'have a seat'.

"State Troopers found Marshall's body. He had his badge and credentials on him and he fit the description they had. It's a positive ID."

Mary stood with her mouth open. Nothing came out. Her eyes glistened up, but no tears.

Stan gathered himself before he asked. "Where…" He couldn't finish the question.

"Out on 165, by the side of the road. They don't know if he got there under his own power or if he was dumped there."

Stan rubbed his chin stubble. "Isn't that where the stables are that we collared the South Africans?"

Mary didn't hear him. She was still fighting back the tears.

"Yeah. Now that you mentioned it. I brought back that one dude and got to ride while doing it."

Mary surfaced from her fog. "None of them showed up on the radar when I looked. I crossed them off the list. Can I see the body?"

Bobby shook his head. "Not yet. It's in forensics right now."

"HE! HE'S in forensics right now. Marshall was not an IT!"

Stan put his arm around Mary's shoulders. "Easy. Bobby didn't mean anything by that. Let's go back to the office and do what we get paid to do. We'll go over all the information we have concerning Treena's case."

He looked at Bobby. "You know that shooting by M13? The black kid?"

Bobby nodded.

"Could you check into any activity that may suggest them going after a Federal Marshall?"

"What would Marshall have to do with that case? Nevermind. I know. It's classified. I'll snoop around and see what I can find."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Is there anything I can do for you Mary?"

"Yeah. Find out who did this to Marshall."

XXXXX

The two agents dragged themselves back into the office. Both supporting each other.

"Stan, I want to see Marshall."

"We will. But while they are working on him, let's concentrate on finding the killers while the trail is still fresh."

"I still don't think the South Africans had anything to do with it. We were out on that road a couple of times."

She snorted at a thought. "Yeah, that's where we had the run in with Mr. Personality. You know Marshall's probably smiling down on us right now saying 'See I told you. The universe is in balance. I was meant to die there.'" She looked up. Tears were now flowing. "Stan. What am I going to do without him?"


	5. Chapter 5

"What the hell …?" The boss's yell morphed into a cough. He pulled out his inhaler and breathed deeply.

He shot to his feet when his two henchmen came running in. "Was that gunfire?" His fist clenching open and closed.

The Russian cringed a bit, stammering. The boss turned and squinted at his cohort, Tall Pine, a stocky Native American. "**What …. was… that… I heard**?"

"Um…"

The Indian looked to his Russian friend who was not offering any help.

"Um, uh…he got away."

"WHAT!" The boss picked up the nearest thing he could find, a pipe. "Whadaya mean 'he got away'?" Shaking it at the two (in his mind) idiots.

Cowering, the Indian stuttered. "He…he…"

"WHAT ALREADY!"

"He….escaped. Out the window. But we think we got him."

The boss swung out, aiming at either of his men. Tall Pine ducked as the pipe missed his head by millimeters but got Ivan full on the shoulder. The blow was accented with, "MORONS".

The lanky Russian tottered from the blow. "But it wasn't our fault."

"What….do…you …mean…it…wasn't…you…fault?" Each word followed by swing and a hit with the weapon. "Didn't…you…forget…to…cuff him?" The last a fatal head shot.

Exhausted, he gazed down at the bloody pulp and in one final tantrum threw the pipe through a window, sending shards rocketing several yards away.

Tall Pine's eyes were wide with terror. He knew his boss made a living by killing but he'd never seen him out of control like this before. He wondered what happened when he was in the hands of those Marshals last year.

The boss looked to the shellshocked man. "Get him out of here. AND GO FIND THAT DAMN MARSHAL!"

x x x x x

**FEDERAL MARSHAL FOUND MURDERED**

Albuquerque, NM  A Federal Marshal was found murdered early this morning along Rt 165.

The body of Michael Mann was discovered by a State Trooper along the side of the road….

Mary slammed shut the paper on her desk as the headlines blared at her. "They didn't even get his effin name right!"

Holding it like a weapon she marched towards her boss's office, her chair denting the wall from the force of her bolting up. Stan was so nonchalant about Marshall dying, didn't he care? She was about to slap it on his desk when she realized he was on the phone. His back to her. Spinning on her heals, she stomped back to her desk. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to let anyone see her cry. Not this time.

But she will find his murderer.

Her anger fuel the hunt. "When I find whoever did this, he'll hang by his toes. Over a pond of hungry piranha. A stagnant pond with lots of mosquitoes. Oh, whoever did this will suffer." When Stan came out of his office, she realized she had been verbalizing her thoughts.

Giving her an odd look, Stan asked, "Were you coming to see me?"

"Yeah. Did you see the papers? Those publicity hungry media hounds already have Marshall in the news!"

"I saw. I also noticed it said 'no leads'. So hopefully this means the perpetrator will get sloppy and leave us something we can work with."

"What's WITH you? You don't care one bit that he's dead!"

Stan stood stone faced.

"SAY SOMETHING!"

"What? That I lost one of my best WITSEC officers? I lost a rumba buddy? I lost the only sane person in this whole damn group? That I lost a friend? Want me to go around stamping my feet and hitting the desk with a newspaper?  
WHAT?"

Mary hesitated. Softening a bit. "Well, yeah. Something like that."

Stan turned, heading back to his office. "I want to find his killers first. Then I'll afford myself the luxury of hissyfit."

x x x x x

Tall Pine dumped Ivan on the road in a dark desolate stretch of highway, hoping a tractor trailer would make it look like a pedestrian accident. Preferable a double or triple trailer.

After making sure no one was around, he ran the several hundred yards back into the desert, where he'd parked before carrying the body to the road. He grabbed the plastic tarp from the bed saving the truck from contamination, grabbed the shovel and started digging. He was sure he was covered in blood but in the moonless open expanse, he couldn't tell. Once he had the plastic in the hole, he stood outside his truck wondering what to do next. If he went back, his lunatic of a boss could do the same to him. As far as he was concerned that guy was a pill short of a full prescription bottle.

He couldn't just walk into town looking for fresh clothes. He didn't want to get Ivan's blood inside the car either, only to get traced to him. He'd been careful up to now. Even clever as he tossed the Marshall's jacket on the body.

He looked up at the night sky, he had several hours til daylight. Could he make it? He thought about it and weighed the options. Getting caught bloody would cause a bigger stir than getting caught naked. He stripped and threw his clothes into the hole as well. Removing any identification that could incrimnate him. He filled in the hole.

x x x x x

Mary stared at the same paragraph on the same paper in the same folder for over an hour. The contents just not sinking in. Her mind a million miles away. Without moving her head, she glanced up when Stan came in. He looked drawn. He looked tired. He looked old.

She raised her head when she noticed he was carrying another manila folder. "What's that?"

Stan's gaunt eyes just stared through her. "Come into the office."

She didn't like the sound of that.

The walk from her desk to his office took years. The room had fogged up. Sound echoed oddly in the distance. She felt she was slogging through the Twilight Zone.

"Sit."

"Why. How bad can it be? Marshall's already dead."

"This is the crime scene pix. We won't be called down to ID him."

"Wha?" She snatched the envelope, tearing it to get the picture out.

Stan carefully monitored her reaction. Her face drained into gray clay.

Time stopped.

Neither spoke.

When Mary finally moved, it was to catch herself from falling.

She looked up at her boss. "How does APD know it was him? How can we be sure this is him?"

"His badge and ID were in the jacket. That's his jacket."

Stan came around the desk and embraced Mary. It had been a long time since she allowed herself to completely give in to her feelings. But she did. She held Stan.

And bawled.


	6. Chapter 6

Tall Pine back yet?" He spoke to the only two people left.

The petite chicken-necked woman just shrugged. The other was quiet.

"Unless he returns with that cop soon, we've got to get the hell outta here." He grabbed his medical bag.

She twirled a tangle of her hair. "I think we should go now. I don't wanna chance getting shoved face first into the dirt again from that bitch. She's one nasty Marshal."

He fingered his glucose monitor. "Thing is…we need to know if that Marshal is still alive. He can ID us. If he's dead, there's nothing to tie us to him."

"If there's a dead cop around, it'll be all over the news. There'd be no guessing."

"You're right. Let's get out of here. The hell with that Indian. He's probably half way to the Reservation anyway."

x x x x x

"I won't believe that's Marshall until a DNA is done." Mary paced around the office.

Stan slammed his desk. "SIT DOWN! You're driving me nuts. They're going to do a DNA test, but that takes a couple of days. Now sit!"

Mary looked at her desk, studied it, then turned and marched towards the door.

Stan's eyes followed Mary as he started to get up. "Now where are you going?"

"I'm going out to where they found his body and do some of my own investigation." She expected a response from Stan, but not the one she got.

"Wait. I'm coming with you."

x x x x x

Wind whistling through a bullet riddled door was the only sound in the empty gas station-minimart. But it was enough to draw Marshall out of the dark depths. "Oh crap."

His face was planted in a used-to-be-pea-green-couch; dusty, musty, tattered and disgusting.

He pried his eyes open. The place was an abandoned, dirty, litter-strewn room. A room he was familiar with, but why? Where was he? Why did he know this place? He struggled to push himself up into a sitting position. "Ouch." He leaned back and let his head rest on back of the couch; eyes closed. His mind swirled in déjà vu. Why do I know this place?

x x x x x

Stan took the steering wheel from Mary knowing she would set the tailpipe on fire getting to the crime scene. He wanted to get there in one piece.

"Over there." Mary pointed to a congregation of flashing lights.

"I can see, Mary. I'm not blind." Stan glided the sedan in behind one of the APD marked cars. The tractor trailer that ran over the body was still being combed over by three forensic officers. Another carried a Rolatape and looked to have recently finished measuring the truck's skid marks.

Mary took in the sight. "God, did those news hounds stop the presses to get the print out that fast? They're still working the crime scene."

"These guys have been out here for hours. They needed to finish up in daylight so as not to miss anything."

Stan looked around. "So where do you wanna start?"

But Mary was already bee-lining it to the location where the impact occurred.

Squatting down, studying the blood splattered macadam, she held in the urge to cry. She had to be cold and professional until she found his murderers. Then she would afford herself the luxury of getting shit-faced drunk. Mary turned her head away from the scene to wipe away a forbidden tear. Her hand stopped halfway up to her eye as she glowered at the dirt. Her head tilted.

"Watcha got?"

"Come look at this, Stan."

She got up stepping away from the road, head down, studying the dessert terrain. "Look." She pointed to the occasional footprint. "It doesn't take a tracker to notice that the same person made the tracks coming and going."

Stan pinched his chin. "That would makes sense if he was dumped here instead of chased. I don't think any of us really thought Marshall died here. His body was placed here in all probability to make it look like an accident, giving those monsters time to get away."

Mary started jogging alongside the footprints.

Stan looked over at the police contingency, decided to contact them later, then trotted after Mary.

x x x x x

As the woman slammed on the brakes, her back seat passenger grabbed for his medical bag before it slid off the seat. "What the hell did you do that for?"

She pointed out the front window towards the flashing light show blocking the road ahead.

He pounded the back of her seat. "Turn around. Turn Around! TURN AROUND!"

She snarked at him. "If I peel rubber and someone sees us, they're going to become very suspicious. Let them think we are just avoiding a long wait." She nonchalantly made a U-turn, coasting away.

In less than a minute she uttered, "Oh shit."

He slid forward on the back seat and peered through the front window at the new set of flashing lights heading towards them from the opposite direction. He bopped her on the shoulder, "Here! Turn here!" pointing to a dirt road that seemed to go nowhere.

She did as commanded.

"Just stay on this road, let's see where it takes us. Anyplace has to be better than here."

x x x x x

Stan caught up to Mary when she squatted down to finger freshly dug dirt. She looked up holding back the urge to tear into soil to pull out the evidence she knew must have been buried there. "I think we should get the boys in blue over here."

He flipped his phone open and texted Dershowitz, knowing he was there among the horde of police. Looking towards the road he waited a moment, then waved. "Here he comes."

"What's up?" Dershowitz panted.

"Get your forensic team over here. We followed footprints from the road and found this." Stan pointed to the softened earth.

Mary had already abandoned the area to follow faint tire tracks deeper into the desert. Her heart started to pound and she picked up speed. She was at a jog by the time Stan caught up to her.

"Stop!" he grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him.

Leaning over out of breath, he spoke in hitches. "What's the hurry? What do you know?"

She looked over her shoulder into the dark. "I've been here before, Stan." Looking back at him, "Maybe it's karma. Maybe Marshall was meant to die out here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember Horst?"

"You mean it's over there?"

"Uh huh!"

That cryptic message was all it took and the two of them bolted into the dark.

x x x x x

"NO, NO, NO!" Horst slammed his fists on the back of the driver seat.

"What?"

"Don't you recognize this place? Turn around! We've got to turn around."

The scene in front of her hit the pencil-necked woman like a snowball to the back of the head. Cold and hard. The deserted gas-mart stood stark in the darkness. She could still taste the dirt when Mary shoved her face first to the ground.

"Shit, what are the chances? But there's no one here. Least not Marshals. You escaped from this hellhole once before, so maybe this is a good omen. Just the same we can't go back, not just yet. Too many cops around."

Horst looked nervously behind him. "Just park around the other side of the building so no one sees the car."

x x x x x x

Marshall was startled awake by the sound of a car door slamming. He couldn't figure out what the implications of that noise were until his brain fog cleared enough for him to remember where he was.

He squinted at the overturned table. '_ah yeah, I got away from some lunatic_.' He turned towards the door, his face morphed into panic. '_It's them, I gotta get out of here_.' He frantically looked around, his sharp cop mind instantly negating hiding behind the bar or sofa. He caught sight of the back door and jumped for it, only to collapse into a heap on the floor.

He groaned, looked back at the front door, bit his lip then charged for the back entrance. He had the door opened and his body half out when he heard someone shout from the front. "IT'S HIM!"


	7. Chapter 7

Marshall stumbled out the door crashing to the rocky ground. The gunshots and yelling somewhere behind him propelled him forward scrambling away from the building.

x x x x x

Mary felt panic bubble up inside her as she raced towards the minimart. A gut feeling was the only thing driving her on. But it was so powerful, as if a cosmic force dragged her towards fate. A shadow of a smile flickered on her face as she realized that grief turned her into a slob, wearing way-comfortable sneakers and jeans. She was able to cover more ground than if she wore her office attire of heals and slacks.

She slid to a halt about a hundred yards from the building, her arm instinctively swinging out to stop Stan, who'd kept pace with her.

He whispered, "What's wrong?"

She just held up her finger as she took in the subtle messages from the scene. She looked from side to side, then back at the mart. "It's unsettled."

Stan wrinkled his brow, "What is?"

"There's a slight…veil." She shook her head. "Of dust. You can't really see it, but the building and tumbleweeds don't look as sharp as they should. Like the difference between a regular TV and a high-def."

They studied the terrain.

Mary dropped to the ground and pointed her weapon when Horst and his cohorts rounded the front of the building.. "Freeze! U.S. Marshals!"

Stan dove behind the junked Jeep a few feet to the right of him as bullets whizzed through the air. He took a deep breath and brought his weapon up, prepared to fire. As he peered around the back of the vehicle he saw Horst and his gang disappearing around the far side and Mary bolting for the front door. "MARY!"

He chased after her, then detoured around the opposite side Horst disappeared. He hoped to get the assassin caught between him and Mary behind the building.

Mary crashed through the front door thinking Stan was still behind her. Upon seeing a man fleeing out the back door, she dove for the safety of the overturned table. Recognition exploded in her mind. She screamed "IT'S HIM!" to…no one.

Feeling empty, she looked behind her for her boss and realized she was alone inside the building. "DAMMIT!" Hand grabbing for the knob, she lurched for the backdoor.

x x x x x

Marshall skidded to a stop. Face to face with the man who seriously wounded him once before. Was he responsible for his kidnapping and subsequent beatings? He didn't hang around to find out. Twisting around with moves any pro-bowl wide receiver would envy, he headed back towards the door. Before he could focus on the blur in the doorway he smashed into it. Red light filled his vision before it started to fade to an oily black. He heard familiar voices in the distance.

x x x x x

Throwing all caution to the wind Mary barreled through the doorway only to hit a brick wall. An immovable object; her, the unstoppable force. She fell back into the room, her hand on her forehead. "&#$%&*!" Such finer words never before emanated from her mouth.

She needed to wait for the room to stop spinning and the double vision to singlize before she would even attempt to get up. She could hear Stan giving commands outside. "What the hell was outside that I ran into? I don't remember there being anything there the last time I was here."

She sat on the floor, knees up and apart. Her head resting on her hands, elbows on her knees. She blinked back some of the reverberations still ringing in her head.

x x x x x

Stan turned the corner, gun raised. "Freeze! U.S. Marshals!"

Horst froze. Realizing that there was no place to run, he relaxed, dropping the gun and his medicine bag. He'd gotten out of prison once before, he'll do it again.

The pencil-necked woman saw Horst give up and grabbed her chance, slipping back around the building and into the car. She waited for no one and peeled out of there.

The third man, who Stan didn't recognize, automatically got face down on the ground.

Motioning with his gun, Stan indicated he wanted Horst on the ground too. That's when he heard, "OUT OF THE CAR! NOW!" Recognizing a police command, he just stood and waited for the backup to arrive.

He didn't wait long. He turned his head as a police officer came up behind him. "Hey Frank. 'bout time you got here. What took you so long? I thought I was going to have to cuff both these guys and drag them into the precinct alone."

"In your dreams, Stan. You know you need our help. After all you were outnumbered."

"I wasn't outnumbered…" Stan hesitated, then looked towards the door. "Where's Mary?" He looked down and for the first time during this whole ordeal noticed the body on the ground. His face went ashen. "Marshall?"

The door swung open and Mary staggered into view. The jamb supporting her. The glaze over her eyes slowly fading as she focused. She dropped to her knees next to the body and gently rolled him over onto his back. "Marshall?"

"OOOOOWWWWWW! What the heck did I run into?" He slowly opened his eyes. Smiled. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. Where've you been?"

x x x x x

Mary sat next to Marshall's hospital bed, a knot the size of a golfball on her forehead. "…it was simply revenge. All that shit that you went through was just Horst getting even with me. He knew how upset I'd be with those pictures."

With a smile creeping across her face she asked, "So where'd they get you?"

"You know where they got me."

"Aw c'mon, I like to hear it once more."

"Okay, okay. They got me in my gluteus maximus."

Mary smirked. "Oh why can't you just say it. They shot you in the ass!"


End file.
